Marionette
by cornwallace
Summary: Upsetting, to say the least.
1. Wake

**Chapter one:**

**Wake**

* * *

"Oh yeah? You come here often?"

"Yeah, actually. Well, recently."

"Looking for someone in particular?"

"You could say I'm just browsing.

Grin, and lean against the bar, my left elbow propped against the shiny wood surface.

"What are you drinkin'?"

She giggles and wipes her mouth. Her pink fur constantly changing shades in underneath the neon beer light.

"Strawberry tequila"

"Bartender!" I yell, knocking twice on the thick wood on the top of the bar. " A strawberry tequila and a White Russian"

Looking into her eyes, I know. I can tell.

I'm getting laid tonight. So what if it just so happens to be Bugs' ex-girlfriend? That was two years ago, am I right?

The two glasses are set down on the counter, the thick liquid in each of them still rippling from the center, and bouncing back from the edge of the glass. She picks up the pink one, and I grab the one before me. She's taking a big sip, looking at the of the bottom of the glass, and I'm looking at her tits. Imagining what it's going to be like later, when I get her out of those sweats. When I'm on top of her very naked and very drunk body.

My tongue drags slowly across my bill.

She sets her drink down, and wipes her mouth. She had put a full glass to her lips, and set down an empty one. Now, that's what I like to see. That lets me know where I stand.

"Would you like another, my lady?"

"Fuck yeah" she says.

Not as dainty as one might imagine. Chuckling to myself, I order another, and sip from mine.

It's going to be one hell of a night.

* * *

"Do you still talk to Bugs?"

Why would she ask me that? Why would she bring that up if she wasn't possible interested? I order another drink, and she repeats herself.

"Have you spoken to Bugs recently?"

"Me? No, not in many years. I have no business with him."

"The last time I saw you I was three weeks into the relationship, I think."

"Somewhere around there. I don't know; I'm not really all that fond of him."

I'm lying. I talk to him every once in a while. He doesn't really have any friends; I really just feel bad for him. He wouldn't know anything about this, though. That's for sure.

I couldn't do that. To his face, at least.

"What's wrong with Bugs?"

"I think you know better than anyone else."

"That's for sure." She laughs, and finishes off her fourth drink. "Do you think you could take me home? There's more alcohol at the house."

Hook, line, and sinker. I'm such a badass.

"Alright. One for the road?"

* * *

I know I may be overreacting, but could you let someone like that go? After all those years?

Okay, well just one, but…

It was easily the greatest year of my whole life. Lola is perfect in all ways, but she just doesn't want me. I understand, I guess. I don't think I would want to be around me that much either. I guess that's why I don't talk to her. I guess that's why I just watch from a distance.

But I can't let her go. Not entirely.

I just can't let it end like this. I have to talk to her. She has to know how much she means to me.

That's it. I know I said I would call Daffy tomorrow, but some things are just more important. I have to get Lola back. I have to prove my love to her.

* * *

I had to basically carry her across her yard and to her front door. She had her arm wrapped around me, giggling constantly about something incoherent. I mean, she had five glasses, but fuck. She's absolutely shitfaced.

How much alcohol is in that strawberry tequila? Those glasses aren't that big.

Whatever. The more, the merrier, I suppose.

We get to her door, and she fumbles her keys out of her keys, and drops them. Instead of picking them up, she laughs about it.

Let me get that, I say with a sigh, bending over to pick them up. I hand her the ring, and she sifts through her keys to find a long silver one. After a couple of attempts to insert it into the lock on the front door, I again offer my services.

"Let me get that"

"My hero!" She exclaims, slurring. "Mynytinshyningarmer!"

The bolt clicks, and I twist the key back around and free it, dropping the ring back in her purse. The keys clink together as they hit the bottom of the back, and the door creaks open behind me, with the aide of my left hand.

"Her palace awaits her."

And that's when I made my move. I leaned in, and kissed her.

* * *

He can't kiss for shit. It might be because of his beak-thing.

Fuck it. I'm horny and drunggk,,

* * *

Walking into her place, I knew all along this was the direction we were going in. I knew the moment I laid my eyes on that firm ass of hers, her cotton-like tail dancing gently back and forth over what seems like heaven.

I couldn't help myself. This is like fucking a goddess. Someone only the star could touch.

I guess I'm the star of the show, now.

She stumbles over to the couch, and plops down, giggling. I close the door behind me, and remove my coat, placing it on the coat rack.

"The bar's over there."

I'm not in the mood for a drink, I tell her as I make my way to the couch.

"Oh yeah? What _are_ you in the mood for?"

And suddenly the phone starts **ringing**

* * *

Maybe it's the desperation. Perhaps it's the loneliness. It could be the half empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the coffee table in front of me. I don't know; what I do know is that I had to call her. So I did. I drunkenly dialed the numbers that I'll never forget into my phone, and I sat there, listening to it ring.

And ring.

And ring.

And ring.

And suddenly the line just cuts. Silence.

"Hello?"

My own voice echoes back to me.

Silence.

"Lola, are you there?"

A loud buzzing interrupts my sentence, and I slam the phone down on the receiver. I stare at the phone for a second and pick it up again, punching the redial button.

And the little recorded voice of a woman from god knows when tells me the number I dialed is invalid.

* * *

... 

I….

what?

Huh? It's…….

There's something tangled around me. Sunlight beams through the window over me, causing the feathers on my face to get hot, or… have they been hot for a while? It's hard to tell. This…… definitely isn't my house. But where?

Tangled around each individual arm, my chest and neck, is the long curly phone cord that goes from the receiver to the cradle. The receiver is in my left hand, while the cradle is in my right. The cradle what looks like red paint splashed all over the corners, and cord has been forcefully ripped in half.

There's also paint splashed on the floor, and a mass of gray matter in the pools of…

Hair?

Oh god…

There's a trail of red that leads down the hallway, and underneath some door. The door to the answer. The door to my greatest fear being realized.

The door is still a million miles away as I slowly advance in the direction of my ultimate fate.

The whole world shrinks in the distance as I put my hand on the cold brass doorknob.

All feeling numbs, and I leave the universe entirely with a twist of the handle.

The door is pushed open, and I don't notice that my heart is racing, and I'm sweating profusely.

The truth is naked in front of me, cold and ugly, and I don't even notice that I'm screaming.

And there she is, with what little is left of her head bashed to a pulp. There she lies in the bathroom, easily the deadest thing I've ever seen, all I can do is puke in the tub, all over her bloody corpse.

I don't know what the fuck is going on, but I have to get out of here.

* * *

Concept thought up by Tha Kalligrapha

Concept stolen by cornwallace


	2. Puppeteer

**Chapter two:**

**Puppeteer**

* * *

Walking up to the house, a sense of dread washes over me. 

I have come this far…

I can't help but tremble at the sight of this old house. I used to live here.

This was my house, but I let her have it. I couldn't just kick her out. She broke my heart but jeez. I love her way too much to do something like that.

Seconds turn into hours, and I'm walking miles across _my_ yard to _my_ front door.

The mat says welcome and I feel just the opposite. I ring the doorbell and….

nothing.

"Lola?"

I knock on the door, and the door slowly creaks open. I guess she didn't shut it all the way, but…

"Lola?"

….

Silence.

Impulse takes hold, and my feet move forward. I'm walking in, and I feel like a stranger to familiar territory. I feel like an intruder in my own home.

What the hell am I doing? I start to turn to get out of there but then I notice the big red stain on the floor. My eyes pop open. My breathing quickens.

"L…..ola?"

I don't know what to do. So many things running through my mind. If I go in there, and Lola is okay, my chances with her could be fucked, but if I leave and she's badly injured, I just couldn't live with myself even if it would mean her hating me.

To hell with it all; I'm going in.

"Lola?"

My voice is a higher pitch than I've ever heard it unwillingly go. The stain is worse than I thought. Little particles of… oh god. No.

No.

The trail leads down _my_ hallway, and I don't believe what I'm seeing. Streaks of red staining _my _carpet.

Suddenly I just know what's in my bathroom. I don't even need to look to know what happened.

And whoever did it is fucking dead

* * *

I had to go somewhere. I had to do something. I needed to tell somebody. You wake up in a house with a fucking dead body in it, you can't just go home, and take a shower. You can't just… 

I don't know what the fuck to do. I'm at a loss, so I'm standing at the doorstep of Mr. Porky Pig.

I'm not just knocking on his door. I'm pounding with both hands. I need something, some kind of answer, and I think it's possible to find it here.

I hope.

The door finally opens, and there he is; ready to explode. He looks like he's about ready to verbally rip me a new asshole, but he takes a good look at me, and freezes entirely. Almost as if he had just recognized me, or something, but not quite.

More like; he just read my expression. I think I just told him everything he needed to know by the look on my face.

"C-c-c-come on in D-daffy."

* * *

The image I had in my head wasn't too far off. I knew she was dead. I knew that. 

I just didn't know she would be covered in vomit and black feathers.

Of course I don't want to believe it. It's horrible to even think about, but what has to be done has top be done. As the man of the house, it is my obligation to track down, and kill Daffy Duck for the murder of my fiancé.

* * *

"Want something to d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-drink?" 

"Sure. You got a White Russian?"

"It's n-n-nine in the morning. I muh-meant c-coffee, or s-s-something"

"Oh, right. Yeah, coffee, or whatever."

After disappearing into the kitchen, he returns with two brown mugs, steam rising over the ceramic cups.

"It's d-de-calf"

Ugh.

"Forget it, then. Look, we have some important shit to talk abo-"

And suddenly the phone is **ringing**.

"Hold on a

and _ringing_

sec this'll jus

and _ringing_

t be a minute.

_**and ringing.**_

And that's when I lose it. Something about the anxiety of it all, some sort of stress factor taking its toll on me, I splash the hot coffee on the back of the unsuspecting pig's head. While he's screaming, and falling forwards, I manage to leap to his left side, and hurl the mug right at his temple.

I've never had aim this good. This takes him out.

And I'm still screaming.

And the phone's still ringing.

And Porky's laying on his stomach, bleeding from the side of his head.

And the phone's still ringing.

And I'm trying my best not to rip the phone cord in half.

I have no control over myself as I pick the glass statue off the stand next to the phone, and I bring it down on his head. Again I bring it down, and notice his head denting inwards with a satisfying crunch. Again and again I bring the statue drown, and in exchange more and more red stains the beautiful swan in my hands. More and more red stains my hands. More and more red stains the floor.

And in exchange his head just keeps getting softer. Flatter.

And I'm screaming.

And I drop the statue on the floor.

And the phone in the other room is still fucking ringing.

I can't take this anymore.

Kicking the door open, and running out into the street screaming.

And the white light shines down upon me. It engulfs me, and forces my body weight up, like I'm being pulled by some ominous force anditstakingmeaway, Idontknowwhat the fuck to DO, the world is just spinningandspinningandspinningandspinning and

What is this…?

And instead of white, I drift off into the dark.

* * *

"Subject 2236 has been drugged and secured, sir." 

"Thank you."

Such a strange voice…where……?

who………….?

"He's mumbling"

"Perhaps he's not all the way under, yet."

"He won't remember any of this, will he?"

"Goodness, no. That's the last thing we would need."

No……..

I ne.d……..

..met.i.g'..r.ng…………………………………

"Subject 2236 has an apparent resistance to the collar."

"I know, I know. We're working on it. Has he discovered anything?"

"No, not yet. Nothing important, anyway. Didn't black out for some reason."

"So he witnessed himself commit the last murder?"

"Affirmative. I've been watching this one. "

"Have you renewed his probe?"

"Of course. I'm always on top of these things. Something you should look into, perhaps."

"Sorry sir."

"Yesss."

Footsteps sound across what sounds like a tile floor.

"Sir?"

The footsteps cease, and silence fills the room. My head is light. I can't open my eyes.

"What's his trigger?"

Trigger? W..t..r.g...?

T.l…e..b4i.'.t.o..ate.

And they both start laughing…..

.nd..'.g.ne.

* * *

Concept created by Tha Kalligrapha

Concept destroyed by cornwallace.


	3. Hunting season

**Chapter three**

**Hunting season**

* * *

_A ringing in my head._

* * *

I feel at… home?

My eyes are open to the soft blue sky, and it's absolutely beautiful. The clouds sort of fade into the blue, as if it's all connected. It's early; that's obvious. The sun shines in my peripherals, causing me to squint, and tilt my head back. My bill acts as a reverse cap, and casts a shadow across my eyes, making the sky easier to look at.

And for what seems like the first time ever, I feel secured. I feel perfect; universal oneness. Is this possible? Can it truly be reached? It sure feels like it. I haven't a care in the world, or a thought in my head and I feel…………….

What's that noise? A rustling of sorts and it sounds like it's coming towards me. With each step, peace is disrupted, and knocked further and further away.

Getting closer. I stop breathing.

All of a sudden, a bird flies into my line of view. I am relieved, and let out a long sigh, and suddenly a bang startles me. My peaceful state is snapped in two as the bird explodes, and its remains fall back down to the cold reality of it all. My heart rate quickens, and my eyes widen.

"Huhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh"

Oh god. I know that laugh from anywhere. I can't see him, buried under all this tall grass, but that's Elmer Fudd. Of all fucking people.

His form enters my line of site through the tall grass. He's to my upper left; he doesn't see me. He doesn't even know I'm here. He's slowly making his way along my left side, and my heart is pounding in my chest. He isn't even aware of my presence as he stops almost a yard beneath my feet.

Looking around frantically, I see a rock to my right. A big one. As quietly as possible, my head slowly rises from the earth, above the grass. Grabbing the big stone, I first use it to support my weight.

It's unbelievably heavy. It takes all my strength to lift it over my head, rear back, stumble forward three steps, and let the rocks momentum take it's course. It seemed ol' Elmer turned around just in time to get his face smashed in, the rock knocking his head back at an angle, and falling heavily on the grass before us. His shotgun falling from his unconscious hand onto the shore, as he limply fall into the shallow water behind him.

The biggest gash I've ever seen; a split from where his hairline would be, all the way to his mangled nose bridge. Blood clouds as he hits the clear water.

Straining, I pick up the rock, and hurl it onto the water, on top of him. It splashes droplets onto my feet, and pins him down. Bubbles surface, but he doesn't move.

I sigh, and pluck the double barrel shotgun from the tall grass. Turning away, there's no room for reflection. No time to look back. It's too late for any of that.

* * *

I must have called Daffy like twelve times before I decided to just come over here. His crappy wooden place out in the middle of nowhere. A long, curvy pathway leads to his home, and it's lined entirely with trees on each side. The limbs hang over the trail, and meet one another, creating a sort of natural tunnel, so to speak.

The constant crickets chirping is starting to get on my nerves. Maybe I was just pissed off already. I don't care. I want to silence any living creature I can get my hands on right now.

Approaching his house, I stuff my hands into my sweater pocket. Stepping up onto the old, rickety wooden porch, boards creaking under my every step, I knock a few times on the screen door.

Silence. Except for those fucking crickets.

Open the screen, and pound as hard as I can on the old, brown door.

Just anticipating his answer. He opens the door, and says something like HEY BUGS, and I say something like HEY DAFFY, I JUST NEED TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT SOMETHING IMPORTANT REAL QUICK, and he'll invite me in, and

Silence.

I go to turn the doorknob, but in my head I'm thinking to myself; it can't be this easy.

But it is.

And the doorknob turns

and the door pushes open.

And I call out to the darkness in his seemingly desolate house.

"Daffy?"

* * *

"Did you set off his collar?"

"No, sir. He hasn't been influenced by us since we replaced him on earth."

"Hmm… strange"

"What is it?"

"Subject 2236 has committed a murder without the aide of his collar."

"In what manner?"

"Smashed a hunter on the head with a large stone."

"Interesting."

"This is being recorded, right?"

"Of course, sir."

"Good. I want him monitored at all times from here on out. I want his every move recorded and studied. Am I clear?"

"As an azure sky, sir."

"Excellent."

I'm beginning to grow fond of this test subject. This is more entertaining than I had initially imagined.

* * *

I don't know what the hell is going on. I honestly couldn't tell you. How the fuck could I just _kill_ him like that.. I

God.

Clutching the shotgun tightly underneath my coat, I make my way in the rough direction of my house. I need to just go home, and shut myself away for a while. To make things worse, my fucking neck has been killing this whole time.

Fuck, how long has it been? A day? Two?

Porky… Oh, fuck man. Porky. Is he really…?

When was that? Did it even happen? This all seems like some nightmare, some horrible dream I can't escape. I just want to wake up in my own bed, but instead, I trudge blindly forward towards it.

Wake up, Daffy. Just fucking wake up.

* * *

You can hear the fucking crickets from inside his house. I've been waiting here since around four, and it's eight. Nothing but the constant chirping of those infernal insects to keep me company. My head is pounding; a ringing in my head, if you will.

Just hurry up, Daffy. Christ, what in god's name are you doing?

Don't you ever come home?

I'm sitting in his dirty armchair on the opposite side of the room as the front door. I've checked the house; nothing useful, really. I'm left to my own devices. The pocket knife I brought should be sufficient.

A sigh escapes my lips, and for the first time I notice I've been holding my breath. I feel a bit light headed. Dizzy, perhaps.

Thud.

Shit. Jump to my feet, and slink towards the door.

Showtime.

* * *

Stumble onto my porch, stubbing my foot on the top step, and staggering to the door. It's been a long fucking day.

I'm so tired. I'm so thirsty. I need sustenance. I need rest.

Clutching the shotgun tightly in my right hand, I snake my way between the door and the screen; the screen half open, my body weight resting upon the dry, splintering wood.

I feel trashed; I feel like Lola did. Hah. That's not funny at all.

Turning the knob, my weight pushes the door open. Holding the shotgun somewhat limply out in front of me with my right hand, I step into the darkness that is my home, and

Suddenly there's an instant of intense pain in my side, and without even meaning to my finger wraps tightly around the trigger, causing a loud **BANG** and a flash of light. In this instant I can't see anything, and my ears are ringing from the loud noise, as my body falls backwards into the wall.

I feel the light switch jabbing into my back, so I push my feet against the floor beneath me, flipping the switch with my back.

And then there was light.

And the first thing I notice is all the blood on the floor.

And the second thing I notice is Bugs Bunny rolling around in it.

And the third thing I notice is the fact that his leg has been removed at the knee, by a shitload of little lead pellets that came out of the gun I'm holding.

And the fourth thing I notice is the knife in the side of my stomach. I grasp the handle firmly, and hesitantly pull out what feels like a foot or so of metal out of my stomach. Blood runs down my left knee.

"Bugs?"

And he looks up at me, with those wide eyes of his. He's in shock. He either doesn't know what to say, or he couldn't even if he did. He chokes out some incoherent sounds. I don't know what to think.

My friend. My own friend.

"Bugs…?"

He just stares at me, and I start limping towards him, a new wave of blood gushing out with each step. I couldn't kill him now. Not like this. Jesus, I.. fuck.

Please be okay, Bugs. Just hold in there.

And suddenly the phone rings. This sends a jolt from my spinal cord to my head. The gun is brought up to his face, and t- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - --m - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- -- - - -- -- - -- e - - - - - - s- - - - - - - t- - - - - - - - - - o- - - - - -- - -- p - - - - - - - - - s - - - - a- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -s - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I- - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -p - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - u- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -l - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - l- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -t - - - - - h- - - - e- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - t- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -r - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -i - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -g - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -ger, and his brains spray all over the white chair behind him.

* * *

Oh god!

Oh fuck!

What the fuck am I going to do now?

* * *

Concept conceived by Tha Kalligrapha

Concept aborted by cornwallace.


End file.
